


The Rise and Ascension of Phoenix

by LadyAngelaGrey



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Canon Disabled Character, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern Era, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Xavier Institute, therealalisonblair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAngelaGrey/pseuds/LadyAngelaGrey
Summary: Jean Grey has never been in charge of her own fate. This story fixes that!
Relationships: Bobby Drake/Original Character(s), Jean Grey/Darwin, Jean Grey/Logan (X-Men), Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Lilandra Neramani/Charles Xavier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 7





	1. First Contact

**Author's Note:**

> This is a complete retcon of Jean Grey’s origin and life (although you will definitely see differences in other characters as well). I have chosen to keep some things the same, but as her story has been through so many decades one of the big things I’ve decided to alter is the timeline. I settled on a more recent one, so this story begins in 2010. Jean Grey is 12 years old.

Jean watched the greenery speed by from the backseat of a large black land-yacht sedan. She scratched at the bend in her elbow. The IV hadn’t been there for weeks, but the memory still itched. She turned away from the view and glanced past the two men in the front seats to look out the windshield. A pickup truck rumbled down the opposite lane and for a brief moment she could see a different truck speeding toward her and icy fear slid under her scalp and down her shoulders. Jean squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed a scream. The car seemed to vibrate violently beneath her seat. _Not my fear, not my death. Not my fear, not my death._

She whispered the mantra under her breath.

“Jean?” A calm British voice spoke from the front passenger side.

She turned toward her window and took a deep breath before she opened her eyes again. The car stopped shaking. “I’m fine.” She heard the irritation in her voice so she added “thank you,” for politeness. 

Another silent hour through the rolling country of upstate New York, finally had them turning onto a long winding driveway that ended at an ornate metal gate. From her window, Jean could see the driver reach out and waive a badge in front of a security pad. The size of the hand surprised her. _Were those blue hairs on his arm?_ The arm disappeared and the gate started to creak open. Open to what, she still wasn’t sure.

Memories of the night, a week ago, played out in her mind. Her father sat hunched in defeat on the stuffed chair, his bowed head against his steepled hands and her mother, stiff with stress beneath her forced calm, sat next to Jean on the couch. Her sister was nowhere in sight. “Your father reached out to a colleague, Charles Xavier. He used to teach at Oxford and he is starting a school here. All the students will be like you.”

“Which part? Crazy or a freak?” Jean snapped. The anger wasn’t fair, but she hated how everyone, including her parents, looked at her since she’d woken from the coma. Since Annie.

“You’re not a freak.” Her mom defended. Jean crossed her arms and silently disagreed. Besides, freak was easier than using the real label. She couldn’t get on social media lately without seeing something about them and now she was one them, a mutant.

Her mom continued, “We love you Jeanie, but you’re different. Your father and I, we don’t know how to help you. Professor Xavier will be able to and you’ll still be able to come home and visit. It’s really for the best.” Her mom placed a hand on Jean’s leg.

Jean leaped to her feet and her mom’s hand fell away. Jean tried not to notice the cringe. “Wait, you’re sending me away to school? That’s still a thing?” Parents didn’t send their kids off to boarding school anymore, that was something you read about in old classics by Dickens, right? 

But apparently parents could still do that, because here she was with two strangers on her way to live with other freaks like her. A lump she couldn’t swallow filled her throat and she fought the tremble in her lower lip. A large palatial brick mansion rose up from the trees and gently rolling grounds. Her new home. No, her prison. Tears escaped and traveled down her cheeks, dripping of her chin.

“I promise you this isn’t a prison, nor am I your warden,” the British voice, Professor Xavier, said, breaking the silence.

Jean roughly wiped the tears away and looked over at him. The wheelchair he had arrived in to escort her to the ‘Xavier Institute of Higher Learning,” had been a surprise, but the completely bald head, and what seemed like a lack of hair even on his arms and face, had shocked her. She wondered if he was sick. Now she found herself shocked again. “Did you read my mind?”

“Yes.” Professor Xavier answered without hesitation. “Does that upset you?”

Jean took a moment, wondering if she should be honest or keep quiet, then she nodded her head, yes.

Professor Xavier smiled. It reminded Jean of when her older sister would suggest they do something that would surely get them in trouble, but would definitely be fun until then. “Well then it’s a good thing I can teach you, to keep me and anyone else out. You are special Miss Grey, but I think you’ll find that special has a different meaning here.”

Jean didn’t feel special, cursed maybe, and definitely confused. She remembered vividly the morning her world crumbled. Annie texted her early on Saturday. They made plans to visit the municipal pool and hang out all day eating snack foods and swimming. But Annie’s mom called her only after an hour or so and told Annie she had to come home. Annie’s mom had found her stashed report card with the failing grade. The girls grabbed up all their things. Jean recalled how worried Annie was about the trouble she was in as they ran out toward the street. At the crosswalk, where they would part ways, the light told Annie to go and Jean waved and watched as her best friend stepped out just as a truck came hurtling toward her, not slowing down.

Jean woke up in the hospital two months later. 

In her nightmares, it isn’t Annie the truck hits, it’s her. The metal grill baring down. The impact on her body. Flying through the air and the ground slamming her into darkness. Those nights Jean would wake to her own screams, the house shuddering like sobs, and her family paralyzed with fear.

The car came to a stop before a massive columned front entry and jarred Jean from her thoughts. She fumbled with her seatbelt as the driver got out and walked around to the passenger side. She saw the car door open beside the professor and large arms, definitely covered in blue hairs, lifted him out. “Thank you, Hank,” the professor said. She opened her own door and stepped out, pea gravel crunching beneath her feet.

She took a long look at the mansion. Her gaze traveled from the ground level up to what was four stories in certain parts. The house stretched out in either direction and Jean finally understood why branches of a house were called wings. The house seemed to be stretching outward, ready to take flight.

The driver, Hank, who oddly didn’t have blue hair on his head but a dark brown, carried Professor Xavier toward the front door. Jean followed behind and could hear them talking. Hank was asking if his driving was better and if he was ready for his driver’s license. The professor told him he’d driven well, but sixteen didn’t automatically make him a competent driver. _That beast of a guy was only sixteen?_

Just as they reached the door, a blast of cold snowy air slammed it open and what looked like an abominable snow monster slid out on a quickly forming ramp of ice. Hank jumped out of the way with the professor and Jean stumbled back a second later, barely escaping the moving snowstorm. From inside a woman’s voice yelled, “For the millionth time, not in the house!”

“Bobby, you’re dead!” Hank roared.

The snow monster laughed maniacally as his moving ice carried him away across the yard.

Jean rubbed her arms against the fading cold and watched him as he disappeared around the back of the house. The professor was right, special certainly seemed to take on a whole new meaning. Maybe freak school wouldn’t be so bad.


	2. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year has passed and Jean is only growing stronger. Will she learn to control her powers or will they control her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I am playing fast and loose with original timelines as well as ethnicities. The X-Men always seemed a bit homogenous for a comic about everyone being different, so hopefully I can fix that. And lastly, I have to say even though I adore Patrick Stewart, my Xavier refuses to be anyone but McAvoy. lol
> 
> After this first chapter was already posted, my son sent me a link to a video by Comic Drake titled 'The Canceled Avengers Movie was Weird..." and it was about the creation of Alison Blair --Dazzler, who started out much different than the Dazzler the Marvel universe ended up with. Once I watched the video I knew I had go back in and edit this chapter to reflect the real Alison Blair.

2.

Control

_Year: 2011_

“Well, I’m off.”

Xavier looked up from his tablet and set down his morning tea, happy to be interrupted from the news feed of tsunamis, Osama bin Laden, and the royal wedding. The last one wasn’t necessarily bad, but it made him a touch nostalgic for his home country and that line of thinking was not helpful. As he looked up, he took in the sight of his good friend, slash school manager. “You’re looking rather colorful today, Alison.” He gestured at the lime green spangled bell bottoms and the silk rainbow colored blouse.

“I guess you can take the girl out of the disco, but you can’t take the disco out of the girl,” Alison said, striking an iconic disco pose. She threw her head back with a laugh. Her normally sleek and tamed salt and pepper hair, had been teased into a bouncy afro and bright hued makeup accentuated her eyes and lips. She was striking and certainly did not look over fifty. Xavier smiled at her exuberance. “But seriously,” Alison said standing up straight, her tone and posture all business, “the station interviewing me asked for the real ‘Dazzler’ and I wouldn’t dare disappoint my fans.”

Interview? Xavier searched his memories for when Alison might have told him about her going to an interview. “I can see your brain spinning, X, don’t worry my classes are handled and Hank is driving me to the airport.”

“Am I that transparent?” Xavier asked with a chuckle.

“Yes,” she answered simply. “That’s why you hired me after all. You and this school still need a mom to keep everything moving like clockwork.”

“Touché.”

A quick knock sounded on the doorframe and both turned their heads. Hank stood just inside the room, obscuring most of the doorway. Already the recently tailored clothes were inching up from his wrists and ankles. The changes over the last year and been slow, but steady, soon there would be no skin visible beneath the blue hair and even his brown curls were giving way to the blue that covered the rest of him. “Good morning, Professor. Are you ready to go Ms. Blair?”

“Yes, Hank. Thank you, just let me grab my bag.” Alison answered. She blew a kiss to Xavier and glided toward the door. Hank turned sideways and she squeezed past.

Xavier called to Hank before he could disappear after her.

“Yes, Professor?”

Xavier lifted his tea and took a sip. He set it down and looked directly at Hank. “This time try to keep the car under ninety on the way back.”

Hank scratched at his blue mutton chops and grinned sheepishly. “Of course, Professor.”

* * * * *

Jean felt off. Her head ached in throbbing waves. She could almost believe she was balancing a watermelon and not a normal sized skull on top of her neck. If she let it tip too far one way or the other she was positive it would tumble right off. An almost blinding stab of pain speared her mind and Jean couldn’t be certain if letting her head fall off wouldn’t just help. She desperately wanted to run back to her room, pull the drapes closed and lay down, but she didn’t want to appear any weaker than she already felt most days. She was still the youngest, the baby and everyone at the school treated her like it; even the one person Jean would call her closest friend here, Paige.

She couldn’t go so far as to say Paige was her best friend, it felt disrespectful to Annie and time hadn’t really altered how much Jean missed her, but Paige was definitely a friend, a good one. Although at the moment, Paige’s incessant analysis of the latest episode of her favorite show adding to the din of the students around them made Jean want to scream “everyone just shut up!”. 

She didn’t scream it. She wouldn’t. It wasn’t their fault her brain was trying to squeeze itself into a tiny ball or that the school was really just an old house with tiny hallways so that everyone was forced to be way too close and loud. 

“Jean, are you okay?”

Jean realized her friend had stopped moving and talking and Jean turned back toward her, crushing her books to her chest like they were the only things keeping her afloat. She and Paige stood like boulders as the river of students flowed around them. “I’m fine.” She gave a smile and hoped it didn’t look too forced.

“You don’t look fine,” Paige disagreed. “You look tired and kind of pasty.” She made a circle with her hand around her own face to emphasize.

Jean gave a real laugh despite the pain. “I’m a red head without freckles, I always look pasty. Come on. We don't want to be late.” Jean smiled as genuinely as she could. Paige frowned, but followed when Jean started off toward their class.

When they reached the room that the Professor used for intermediate math class, both she and Paige found a seat quickly. Jean bowed her head and rested it against her folded arms, hoping the darkness would alleviate some of the pain. She didn’t care if everyone thought she was napping, she’d just keep her head down until she heard the professors speak.

The darkness didn’t help. A pain harsher than anything she’d ever felt ripped through her mind and she couldn’t stop the cry that erupted.

From one moment to the next, it was as if every voice Jean had ever heard seemed to scream and bellow around and through her all at once. Jean lifted her head from her arms and scanned the room. Everyone was looking at her in surprise, but no one was talking.

But she could hear them. All of them. Their questions ricocheting like bullets. She closed her eyes and pressed her hands to the side of her head, but it wasn’t true sound and blocking her ears did nothing to stop the cacophony. The professor had warned her when she’d first arrived at the school a year ago that as she matured more of her abilities might manifest. Great, on top of inexplicable comas, floating pencils, and acne, she could add brain ruptured by voices to the list. 

The chaos attacked her mind like a knife, sharp and unrelenting.

It was hard to breath. Her ears ached enough, she was certain blood must be pouring from them and still the noise prevailed. A number of hands touched her back in concern. Jean was vaguely aware that she was no longer sitting on a chair, but curled tightly into a ball on the floor. The floor began to shake and the hands on her fell away. Jean thought she might be able to distinguish her classmates’ alarmed cries from the overwhelming chaos. Not that it made a difference. Jean couldn’t help them anymore than she could halt the horrible screaming.

All she wanted was for it all to just stop!

Silence enveloped her.

The floor stilled.

“Jean.” A calm voice, barely above a whisper said her name.

“Yes, Professor.” Jean answered, still curled in the fetal position her hands and eyes closed. Her voice sounded raw and hoarse. Had she been screaming, too?

“It’s okay, Jean. I’ve momentarily blocked your abilities, but I won’t be able to keep them blocked so you will need to regain control.” He said it matter of factly, as if she hadn’t been trying to regain control the whole time.

“I don’t think I can.”

“Yes, you can. Your thought earlier, that this is something new, is correct. You’ve been given another gift, another strength that you will need to develop. Think about what we have worked on before, the same principles apply.”

The cadence of the Professor’s voice calmed Jean. She focused on one of their recent ‘one on one’ lessons. How effortlessly the cup filled with tea had hovered above the desk, only a slight vibration making the liquid ripple. Without hesitation, smiling triumphantly, she sent the cup over to the Professor’s waiting hand.

The noise, the voices, were just another cup of tea she could manipulate, she told herself, and tried very hard to believe it. She took a deep centering breath. She pictured her mind as a white room absent of all distractions except where a large bay door stood open to the outside world. She needed to close door, block off all sounds, everything. She imagined a door, metal and thick, sliding down over the opening. It slammed shut and the white room was now an impenetrable fortress. Nothing could get in. Or out.

Slowly she opened her eyes and lowered her hands. At first, she couldn’t comprehend why the professor was lying on the floor looking at her, but realization dawned quickly as she took in the over turned motorized wheelchair, the fallen pictures from the walls, the tumbled furniture and her classmates huddled together covered in plaster that had showered from the ceiling. The white powder especially stark against Paige and James’s dark skin.

She nearly brought the house down around them. 

She could have killed them all.

Guilt soured Jean’s stomach as she slowly sat up. She watched as Davis and Bobby righted the wheelchair and offered to help the professor up. He shook his head and used his arms to pull himself slowly back up into the seat. The students began to unhuddle, Heather, tall, blonde, and tan helping everyone to their feet.

“Jean?” Paige’s voice usually strong and confident was hesitant. Jean couldn’t bring herself to say anything she just looked down at her dust covered hands, shame eating a hole through her. Would her classmates fear her now? Or were they angry at her for putting them in danger? They should be both. The professor was wrong. She didn’t have gifts, she had weapons. Weapons she couldn’t control.

Jean stumbled to her feet and bolted from the room. She heard a number of voices call to her, including the professor, but she just kept running.

* * * * *

The Professor found her later that evening, when she didn’t show up for dinner. He rolled quietly up next to where she sat in the bay window hidden behind heavy drapes, knees to her chest. He didn’t move the drapes aside, but sat there in silence with her for a good while. Finally, he spoke.

“Yes, your powers could be a weapon,” the Professor started and Jean winced. She didn’t want to be different and she definitely didn’t want to be dangerous. “But Jean,” he continued, “a shovel, a baseball bat, even the brocade cord that holds these curtains back, could be weapons. Intention is everything.”

Jean could feel all the voices pounding at the white room door. If she stopped focusing for just a moment...well she couldn’t not unless she wanted to hurt everyone. She pulled back the curtain just enough to look the Professor in the eyes. “I’m scared.”

“I’m scared, too. Every day I look at my students and I fear they will run away from those that would help them and be lost to their fears.”

She could see sadness in his tightlipped smile. “Has that happened?” Jean asked as she pushed one of the curtains open and dangled her feet over the side of the window seat. She could see him thinking. Probably deciding how much he wanted to tell her. Just like an adult, trying to edit his words.

The professor laughed out loud. “You’re right, that isn’t fair. I can either answer your question or say I don’t wish to, but I won’t edit. So, yes, I do feel I have failed a student, and I promise I will tell you about them, but not tonight. Is that sufficient?”

Jean nodded.

“Now what specifically are you scared of?” He asked.

“When I go to sleep,” Jean started and paused. She looked down and her red hair covered her face, just like the curtains she hid behind had.

“It’s okay Jean, I can’t help you unless I know what you need.”

She didn’t look up, but she answered. “I don’t think I can keep the voices out when I sleep.”

“Ah, yes,…That is a valid concern. Jean you know you’re the youngest student to attend this school, right?” She nodded, but still kept her face hidden. “I don’t say this to make you feel less. I say this so that you realize that at thirteen you have more power then others double your age and even those people would need help harnessing their gifts. You’ve already created a visual in your conscious mind to help you keep the voices out. What if I were to lock that door? Not forever, but for a little while, until you felt you were stronger?”

Jean looked up in surprise. “You can do that?”

“It does take a little cooperation on your part. I can place the ‘lock’ as it were, but if you push on it at all it will crumble. You will need to allow it to remain until you are ready. Can you do that?”

“I think so Professor.”

“Excellent. Now why don’t we go find you some dinner. If you are going to learn to control your powers you certainly can’t do it on an empty stomach.”


	3. Interlude 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Charles and Lilandra appeared while I was thinking about how I would eventually present the Phoenix Saga. I realized that Xavier's relationship with Lilandra and the whole Shi'ar story line, played a major role and I didn't want to leave it out. But also I wanted to have Charles and Lilandra have a much deeper and more involved story than they have previously gotten in either the comics, cartoon, or movies. Xavier deserves some love, too! Enter the Interludes. As the story progresses, the interludes will detail their interstellar romance. Hope you enjoy!

_ Interlude 1 _

Xavier dropped the arm of his wheelchair and pulled himself across to the mattress. He noticed the barest of tremble in his arms and core and acknowledged he’d neglected the gym too much recently.

He adjusted his legs until he was settled comfortably under the duvet and rested his head against the headboard. A stack of books he had meant to read for months sat untouched on his bedside table. He picked up the top one and held it in his hand, but didn’t open the cover. 

The more students that arrived at the school, the more his attention was divided. And some, like young Jean, took up more than their fair share of his time. In her presence he always remained optimistic and supportive, but deep down a dark fear coiled. He knew it was his own insecurity and not a failing in Jean’s strength that kept him awake at night. Or woke him in a panic. What if he failed her?

Jean was not Emma, he reminded himself.

And yet.

When sleep finally found him it was nearly midnight, but he didn’t sink into darkness. Instead he seemed to close his eyes and then open them elsewhere. A sliver of vertical light illuminated a shadowed room. No not a room. He could make out tall amphorae like jugs and a large pile of dark lumps that reminded him of rice sacks. A pantry or storage room, perhaps.

Behind the row of amphorae, Xavier caught a flash of eyes in the bar of light and he felt the terror roiling within them. As much as the emotion was recognizable, he was also immediately aware the being giving off the emotion wasn’t human. But human or not, concern made him take a step forward. The terror swiftly turned to anger. A form rose slowly from the hiding place. Even despite his mind telling him no human stood before him, all Xavier saw was a beautiful dark-haired woman, draped in a blanket and brandishing a knife in one hand while holding the blanket closed against her throat with the other. 

“Did my brother send you to finish the job?” She hissed. Xavier’s ears heard alien words, but his mind understood her clearly.

“I can assure you, that is not the case,” Xavier answered raising his empty hands in deference.

She slipped out from behind the jugs and stood before him. Her height had her looking directly into his eyes and in the dim light, Xavier could make out the smudged remnants of markings on either side of her eyes. She lifted the knife so that the point nearly touched his cheek. “Who are you and where did you come from?”

He stared at the woman, young, but not a child, and the strength that welled up from her core momentarily stole his words. In that moment, he realized two things. One he was standing, which meant he was certainly astral projecting, his consciousness aware and functioning outside his physical form. But if that were true, then he was certain the alien woman who clearly saw him must be astral projecting as well. A rare occurrence, Xavier had only experienced a handful of times. And as his mind had already identified the humanoid woman as alien, he had to assume his consciousness was no longer on Earth.

“Where is this place?” He asked. Not answering her questions.

She narrowed her eyes and didn’t respond right away. He could feel her mistrust lessen, and give way to curiosity. She seemed to understand his question went beyond just wanting to know in what room they stood or even what city or village they resided. “The planet Chandilar, in the palace of the Shi’ar Imperium,” she answered, but didn’t lower her knife. “Now you.”

“Earth,” he answered.

The knife dipped. “I have never heard of Earth.” He could feel her curiosity had definitely superseded the earlier fear and anger.

Xavier chuckled. “I’ve never heard of Chandilar.”

A muffled scream caused them both to turn to the door. “If you are not here because of my brother, you need to leave,” the woman said, the terror returning to her voice.

“I’m not really here. We are speaking through our minds.”

The woman whipped her head in his direction and steeled him with her gaze. “I do not understand.”

“If I’m correct, you are likely sleeping behind those jugs.” He pointed in the direction of where he’d first caught site of her. “Our minds have created these avatars, but they are not our physical forms, and because of that, despite being what I assume is millions of miles apart, we are both here together.”

Noises of weapons fire and voices raised in battle, followed by panicked cries could be heard faintly, but seemed to be growing closer. Instinctively, Xavier stepped in front of the young woman, shielding her. She stepped out from behind him, knife held ready. It really was quite remarkable that she had manifested a weapon with her astral form. He also noted the blanket was gone, she stood merely in a silken shift.

If those firing the weapons found this room, there was nothing he could do. As much as she was a stranger, he didn’t like the idea of harm coming to her. “Will you be safe here?” He asked. 

She looked into his eyes and Xavier could feel a pull in his abdomen, as if a cord ran between them and held him to her. “Nowhere is safe while my brother is free to descend upon the Imperium like a raptor of death. He has already taken my mother and sister. He will not stop until the entire imperial family is destroyed.” Her words were bitter.

They stood silent. What was this? How was any of this possible? Millions of miles apart, aliens to each other, and yet she felt familiar; as if he’d always known her. And the most impossible part, Xavier could feel the same emotions reflected back at him from her.

As much as he wanted to keep talking with her, learn more about her, he couldn’t forget she lay defenseless only feet away. “You mustn’t stay sleeping. You need to wake and be ready.”

“But if I wake, you will no longer remain.” Her words tightened the cord between them.

“What is your name,” he whispered as he reached out and lightly ran his fingers over her arm. Their astral skin seemed to spark under the touch.

She looked down in surprise, then raised her other hand, the knife gone, and ran her fingers along his cheek. The new spark leaped down through him and twisted his middle into a gordian knot.

“Lilandra,” she said.

He repeated it, let it roll around in his mouth, alien, yet achingly familiar.

“And yours?” She prompted when he didn’t immediately reciprocate, stepping within an inch of him.

“Charles.”

She smiled for the first time and her beauty doubled. Every part of him wanted to kiss her and he could feel her desire the same. He gave up trying to understand their connection. It was and that was enough. He did consider one thing. Being alien, he was unsure how her age progressed, but instinctively he knew he was older and yet he was also certain that her fewer years had matured her quickly. As much as emotions desired her, he checked himself. He raised his hands and rested them on either side of her face, then dipped her head down so he could touch his lips to her forehead. Sparks of heat raced through them and they both gasped.

Lilandra pulled away first. Her lips parted to speak.

The door to the storage room burst open and slammed against the wall.

Lilandra’s startled cry echoed in Xavier’s ears when he opened his eyes and found himself returned to his body. He immediately closed them again, reaching out, hoping to find her presence. He found his students. Reaching out further, he could feel the small community near the school. He fought his instinct to pull back, reaching farther and farther, using all his energy to try and reach her. He sought her, until exhaustion sent him hurling back into himself.

He lay in the dark, worry for Lilandra’s safety crushing him.

But the worst feeling nearly unraveled him. For years he had contented himself with work and the higher purpose of protecting and helping those that the world had labeled mutants. It had been enough; until tonight. In one brief incredible encounter, he was reminded that he was very much alone.


	4. Bikinis and Exploding Hot Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another year has passed and Jean and her classmates are enjoying Spring Break, 'X' style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ask for a little forgiveness, in this chapter, the focus is stretched a little thin and even though we are technically in Jean's POV, she is more of an observer. Bad writing, I know! I really just wanted a fun and charming break into the lives of these kids, before their world implodes. Hope you all still have fun.

3.

Bikinis and Exploding Hot Dogs

_Spring 2012_

“It’s Spring Break in New York, not Florida!” Jean said in disbelief when Paige pulled out her bikini from the top drawer of the dresser.

Paige held the skimpy neon pink top with white polka dots to her front. “I’m not going to deprive anyone of this gorgeous view.” 

“You are unhinged. The water will be freezing and even if it isn’t, you know Bobby _will_ freeze it just because he thinks it’s funny.” Jean grabbed her cardigan off the wall hook behind the door and made a deliberate show of putting it on. Ms. Blair lectured often on the beauty of all people, and Jean tried not to compare herself to her best friend, she was a year younger after all, but somedays she couldn't help it. At home, Jean had her own room, here at school she had to share. But having Paige as a roommate was like having a sister that Jean actually got along with. She still ached when she thought about Annie and her death, but after two years the edges of her pain had worn down a little. It made it easier to admit that she had moved on with her life and part of moving forward included admitting she had a new best friend even if she’d never forget her first true friendship.

Paige laughed, but continued to change into her bathing suit. “Jean, it’s time you learn, that bathing suits aren’t for swimming. They’re to show off how awesome we are as women.” Paige said as she pulled up her bottoms and put her hands on her hips. Jean had to admit, the dramatic look of the neon pink against her friend’s dark skin, really did look awesome. All eyes would be on Paige today, no question. Jean wasn’t sure how she would feel with that amount of attention.

“That’s only true, if you can slough off your skin and turn into a beautiful, diamond person-thing, which by the way, I can’t do.” Jean said with a smirk.

Paige’s eyes brightened. “I bet you could make them think you were a ‘diamond person-thing’.”

“We are definitely not having that conversation,” Jean said as she shoved the last of her beach items into her backpack.

Paige wiggled her eyebrows. “That’s because you know it true.” She pulled on her jeans and a shirt over the bikini and grabbed her own bag. “I bet the Professor could make everyone think he’s a diamond person.”

“In a bikini,” Jean added and they both giggled hysterically as they left the room.

As they headed down the hall toward the stairs, Jean caught a glance of green hair out of the corner of her eye and stopped. The door to Lorna Dane’s room had been left open and Jean could see her draped across a ragged recliner. Dressed in solid black, even down to black socks and gloves, her green hair encircled her head like one giant uncombed knot. She might have been listening to audio book or music, but Jean knew she was just staring at the wall.

The patch the professor created kept most thoughts out of Jean’s mind, but emotions seeped through the cracks pretty easily. With Lorna, the girl rarely spoke, but her emotions screamed. They were unavoidable. Jean took a step toward the room.

Paige put a hand on her arm. “Don’t bother. She’s not going to come. She never does.”

“I’m still going to try,” Jean said as she continued to walk forward. Paige let her arm drop with a huff, but waited. Jean gave a knock on the door frame. Lorna didn’t move. “Hey, a few of us are going over to the lake for a picnic. We’ll wait if you want to get ready and come to.”

“Fuck off,” Lorna said after a long pause. She didn’t even bother to look over at Jean.

“Okay, maybe next time,” Jean responded before turning back toward Paige.

Her friend raised her arms in confusion. “Do you like being rejected?”

They continued down the hall as Jean tried to explain. “It’s not about being rejected. If you could feel what I feel from her, you’d want to help.”

“Somehow I doubt that Jeanie. I’m not as nice as you.”

In the small common area near the stairs, the television streamed the news in French and as the girls neared they noticed little Doug curled up on the couch, watching. He held a pillow close against his chest and his expression was grim. Douglas Ramsey was only ten years old, so Jean could no longer claim she was the youngest student ever to attend the school. He had arrived a few months ago when the foster system gave up trying to place him. 

“Hey Dougy, you okay?” Paige asked, disproving her earlier claim that she wasn’t nice. “What are they saying?”

Doug looked over at them, his eyes glassy and one hand clenched in anger. “The French government has passed a law allowing businesses to refuse service to mutants.”

“Don’t worry buddy, that won’t happen here,” Paige assured him.

Doug rolled his eyes. “I’m ten not stupid.”

Jean snorted and Paige glared at her. She turned to Doug. “Okay, how about I just say everyone here will try and make sure that doesn’t happen. Better?”

“Better,” he allowed. He lifted the remote and turned the channel to a Japanese game show. He laughed hysterically at something the announcer said.

Jean and Paige gave each other a look, but neither of them said a word about how terrified the news made them as they headed down the stairs.

* * * *

Jean pulled her jacket tighter as she watched Bobby and Davis play stick hockey with tree branches and a pinecone across the surface of the lake. The ‘lake’ was truthfully more of a muddy pond, but it was their hangout so they could call it whatever they wanted, and as predicted Bobby had frozen the water solid. Paige had only given a half-hearted complaint, her teeth already chattering. She had had Jean take a quick pic of her in the bikini and then her friend had hastily redressed and huddled back down next to the fire pit. Jean didn’t say a word, but Paige smirked in silent acknowledgement that Jean had been right about the weather.

The rest of the group, Tabitha, James, Heather and Warren also stayed near the warmth of the flames. James, appointed himself the tender of the fire, and no one argued.

“Why don’t you just tear off your skin and be steel or something?” Warren asked, when he noticed Paige accepting a blanket from Heather to put around her shoulders.

“Have you ever felt steel when it’s cold out?” Warren nodded and Paige continued. “I’d be fine while I was steel, but the minute I turned back to flesh I’d have to warm up from the inside out. It’s not worth it.”

Despite the chilly temperature it felt good to be outside. Jean closed her eyes and soaked up the weak sunlight through her eyelids and smiled. The fire popped and she opened her eyes to see the embers shoot upward. She focused and with the barest touch from her mind she sent them spinning into different shapes until their glow faded. James gave a rare smile in response. Next to Jean, Tabitha munched handfuls of potato chips, like rocks in a grinder and she cringed.

“Stop hogging the snacks, Tabs,” Warren whined across from them and his wings gave an agitated shake.

“It’s not like you can’t buy more,” she said as she tossed the bag across to him. It barely landed on the other side. Warren snatched up the bag from the ground before it melted and flipped her off. Warren and Tabitha had a strained relationship and Jean couldn’t hide from their volatile emotions whenever the two were in similar proximity. Neither of them had said exactly what they hated about the other, but Jean guessed that it had something to do with Tabitha growing up very poor, and Warren, who’s family donated large sums to the school each year, did not. 

Near lunch time Bobby and Davis, dropped their sticks and squeezed in between Heather and James next to the fire. The older, but smaller Davis curled into the shelter of Bobby’s arms and legs. The contented emotions that emanated in waves from the couple could almost make up for Bobby's obnoxious behavior. Almost, but not quite.

“Grab the hotdogs!” Bobby called out when James headed to the back of the truck to grab more firewood.

At the tailgate, James pulled the cooler close and lifted the lid. He let it fall closed. “Can’t,” he said.

Bobby snorted. “What do you mean ‘can’t’?”

“I ‘mean’, someone froze the dogs solid and there’s no way they’re coming out.” James answered. He walked back toward the circle and placed two new logs in the embers. 

Bobby at least looked guilty, but Jean didn’t miss Davis’s comforting pat on Bobby’s arm that returned all of his confidence. “Hey, Tabs, you think you can get them out?”

Tabitha stood up with an excited grin. “I’ve been working on mini Time Bombs.” She called out as she jogged up toward the truck, even as everyone else in the group called out for her to stop. A marble sized glow spun in her palm. She lifted the lid of the cooler and stepped back. With an even larger smile she lobbed the plasma ball into the open container.

The explosion lifted the cooler into the air and ice, plastic, and mutilated hot dogs burst like fireworks into the sky. Jean threw out her arms and managed to divert the largest pieces away from the group, but hot water and hot dog bits still rained down on them.

“Damn Tabs! I’ve got hot dog in my feathers, ugh!” Warren stood and backed up away from the fire. He unfolded his wings and flicked and stretched the feathers, then he gave his full wing span a good shake, which threw more water and bits onto those near him. They all called out in annoyance. When the voices calmed, the echoing sound of a vehicle door slamming shut, made the whole group freeze and look.

Malice roiled in the air. Jean leaned and looked around Paige to see. Three men and two women made their way toward them, decked out in camo and American flag print. Anger rolled off them like a stench. Her stomach tighten.

“What do we have here?” One of the men drawled through a mass of tobacco in his mouth. He spit off to the side, nearly hitting the boots of one of his companions. He brayed with laughter when his friend jumped back.

“I believe we’ve got us some Muties,” one of the women answered with a smile. Jean could make out shadowed patches where a few of her teeth were missing.

“And what we do with um?” The first guy continued.

“We teach um where they belong,” the woman answered.

“Indeed we do.”


End file.
